If you keep horses in winter, congratulations: you’ve willingly chosen a lifestyle of mud, pain, and emotional instability.

Your horse transforms into a mud-covered hippo, your gloves vanish into another dimension, and every yard trip becomes an Olympic event featuring slipping, swearing, and nearly dislocating something vital.

You spend ££££ on rugs, and your horse tears them off with the enthusiasm of someone auditioning for Magic Mike.
Meanwhile, you’re dressed like an exhausted marshmallow who’s accepted their fate.

But we soldier on — because nothing says “I love my horse” like defrosting frozen buckets while crying and slowly losing circulation in all extremities.

You waddle across the yard like a penguin with chronic back issues, carrying water buckets that slosh just enough to ensure your socks stay permanently soggy. And your signature scent? It’s now a delightful blend of hay, mud, and pure despair.

But sure. Horses are “relaxing.”

Happy Christmas to you all!